Outcast
by Thermal Man
Summary: Elf. Mage. Apostate. Abomination. All those words described him, he supposed. But Slythe wasn't big on labels. They trapped people, decided what they could do. Just like the mages had. Just like the tower had.


The air sparked, and from it grew a small ball of fire, barely a foot in diameter. Perfectly symmetrical in form, it hung in the middle of Fereldan's Magi Tower's third floor training room, glowing and casting everything in a yellow light. Two people were in the room with it. One was a human, watching it with obvious interest.

"Good. Keep your power under control," he remarked to the young elf.

"I am," the other, Slythe, hissed through clenched teeth. It was taking all his focus and conviction to keep the fire under control. He'd already stopped two breaks from forming, he didn't know if he could stop a third.

As if his words were a trigger, Slythe could feel a third arc pushing up, trying to get out and break the unnatural limitations he had created. He clenched his teeth even harder and ground them together. He would hold this ball of energy and fire together, he would erase the weak hold.

And he did, for a short while. But then another weak area arose, and he had to fortify it. And while he was attending to that one, another appeared. And then another. And then another. The little ball of fire in the room had grown, and was no longer under control. Bursts of golden flames were spilling out everywhere, and it glowed as bright as the sun.

Enchanter Bergin sighed tiredly. Gripping his old, sandalwood staff with both hands, the equally old mage channeled his mana into it to create a shimmering shield. "Let go of it!" he yelled over the roaring fires.

"No, I've got this!" Slythe shot back. Maker, there were so many holes, where the fires just burned though. Slythe stood fast though, and continued to pour all his energy into containing the small nova even as more sweat started to pour down and drip off his face. It was taking so much for Slythe to stand and think. His reserves disappeared and the world got darker. The last thing Slythe saw as fell to the stone floor was a small, dull red explosion that furled outwards everywhere.

He awoke in a bed. It was nice and soft, but his back hurt a bit. Rolling over, dull pain began to wash over Slythe in waves. He groaned and swore softly.

"So you're finally awake," Bergin commented, his gravelly voice calm and cold. Slythe's head snapped in Bergin's direction, and he immediately regretted it as audibly _cracked_.

"It hurts to move," he complained

"You burned up all your mana, Slythe. It should hurt. When will you learn? You need to gain self-control," Bergin said forcefully.

"Yeah, yeah Bergin. I've heard this before. I'm trying alright?" Slythe hoarsely replied. Maker, he was so tired and sore. Raising his right arm, Slythe called forth his magic and tried to heal himself.

"No you're not!" Bergin shouted angrily. He rose from his chair, rage visibly swirling in his eyes. Striding over to Slythe, he grabbed the elven boy's arm and squeezed it harshly. "You just woke up from using up all your magic and you're already back to casting! And healing magic at that! Do you realize what could happen! You're no prodigal son, you barely know how to use healing magics! You may have permanently damaged yourself! And that's without considering the fact that you probably have no mana to draw from!"

Slythe stared at Bergin's gaunt bearded face, shocked at his teacher's outburst and the pain from his weathered hand. He quickly regained a semblance of composure, and tore his arm from Bergin's grip, ignoring the burning pain it took to move it. Hanging his head down in shame with guilt coloring his face, Slythe whispered, "Sorry. It just hurts to move. Could you do it for me?"

Bergin sighed and returned his free hand to his staff. He sighed, "I don't know any healing."

"Get me someone who can then, okay?" Slythe asked in a bitter, yet hopeful way.

"No. The pain will remind you that you have limits and need to pace yourself," Bergin said. "Besides, we need to talk."

"Aren't we already?" Slythe sarcastically retorted.

"Cut the attitude. I talked with the First Enchanted."

Slythe swung his head back up and looked at Bergin. He paused, hoping for Bergin to continue. The old mage didn't say anymore, "And?" Slythe inquired.

Bergin features softened, "He's seriously considering making you Tranquil."

Slythe's eyes widened in realization. The worst fear of all mages, Tranquility, was being considered for him? He knew he lagged behind most of his peers, but he was constantly improving. What the hell was this all about? "But… but what about all the improvements I've made? I mean I can- I can control fire pretty well now. And I'm becoming more efficient with my mana use too!" Slythe sputtered out. His mind was racing and scrambling for facts that favored him. "I- I've even got basic control over lightning, and I'm getting better with it too! Doesn't any of that count for anything?"

"According to Irving, yes it does, but only for very little. He feels that your… _disconnection _from your mana is very serious. He knows how hard you push yourself and he feels it isn't safe for anyone, yourself included. This black out, do you know how serious it is? Do you know how big that firebomb you made was?"

"I only put a little more power into it than usual," Slythe answered weakly.

"It broke through my shield. I had to summon a second one just to protect us. The rest of the room went up in fire and I had to drag you out of there because you didn't know your limits. Other enchanters had to abandon their apprentices and stop teaching them just to fix your mistake."

"What… But… How can… How can I make this up? How can I convince everyone that this was a one-time thing?" Slythe asked.

"I'm not sure you can, Slythe. I'm not even sure that it is. It could easily happen again. Personally, I think you should apologize to everyone, say you've learned your lesson and stop pushing yourself so hard. It'll make something like this less likely to happen and smooth things out with the enchanters a bit," Bergin suggested.

"No, no I can't stop pushing myself Bergin. You- you know that! I don't become better at all, I don't learn shit!" he shouted back, "If I don't throw all of myself into something!"

"I'm sorry Slythe. It's either you stop pushing yourself and take the Harrowing or you recklessly ignore what I've told you and become Tranquil. Just think on it, okay?" Bergin asked, laying a hand on Slythe's shoulder. The teen shrugged off the weathered, wrinkly hand. "I'll be going now. Just stay in your bed, relax and recuperate," Bergin said, a sad look on his face and then left Slythe alone.

"Maker damn this," the elf cursed, his voice cracking. Everything had looked up. But now, now he was screwed. He couldn't take the Harrowing, Slythe was sure he hadn't learned enough to beat it. And no one, _not a single mage_, wanted to be Tranquil. It was a fate worse than death. Being cut off from his emotions and gift? No, Slythe couldn't handle that.

"Fuck!" he screamed and fell back onto his cot. Hot tears began to stream down his face and Slythe tried to stop them, he was stronger than this. He wouldn't let whoever walked in next see him bawling in this bed like a baby. His breathing got shorter and began to hitch as he forced the tears off. This was better. His breath evened out, and Slythe did feel better, in control again.

For a while, he wasn't sure how long, he did nothing. His mind was simply empty, and Slythe enjoyed how soft the bed was. It helped soothe his aching body which in turn soothed his mind. But still, he couldn't ignore his current problem forever, could he?

No, he couldn't. Slythe turned his mind toward solving his little problem.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Hey all, I'm going to keep it short. This is my first story here, and I'm kind of nervous about it. But don't go easy on me or this story. Tell me about any problems you notice, such as grammar or lack of characterization or poor dialogue or anything. I'll improve much more with criticism, after all._

_I'm also looking for a beta-reader to proof-read and give their opinion on my long-term plans for this._


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